


as dark things are to be loved (between the shadow and the soul)

by knightofbens



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Force Bond (Star Wars), Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren Redemption, Mutual Pining, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Romance, in which Supreme Leader Kylo Ren writes love poems and cries a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 20:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15008438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightofbens/pseuds/knightofbens
Summary: He was undeserving of everything she was, what with her inner light casting his ashen skin in ethereal glow, filling his rotten lungs with the fresh air that came from her very breath and engulfing his tongue with a sweet taste whenever his lips uttered her name in silent nighttime prayers.If she meant to set him alight in blaze, then by the luminous stars adorning the widespread canvas of onyx space standing between them, he'dburn. He'd turn into living flame and not ever allow himself to extinguish."Answer me, Ben. Are these poems for me?" Rey held the parchment in a viselike grip, nearly ripping the paper apart with her trembling hands."I wrote them for you," Kylo admitted, his heart skipping a beat. "They're yours if you want them. And I'm yours if you ever want me."





	as dark things are to be loved (between the shadow and the soul)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Only do not forget, if I wake up crying  
>  it’s only because in my dream I’m a lost child  
> hunting through the leaves of the night for your hands,  
> for your caresses like the wheat,  
> the flashing rapture of shadow and energy._
> 
>  
> 
> XXI, Pablo Neruda

Rey was standing on a poorly lit corridor filled with doors in an unfamiliar place. The high walls were age-worn and painted a light shade of blue, webbed with long cracks that stretched from the ceiling to the dust-covered marble floors, offering an odd sense of long-lost domestic comfort. The lack of decoration save from a single painting hanging between two doorways, whose details she couldn't discern in the gloom, conveyed a deep nostalgia for simpler days of peaceful bliss.

  
It was a deserted family home, she realized. There were ghosts mourning bittersweet memories everywhere, wandering amid a swirl of emotions: joy, longing, fear, misery, hopelessness, anger… but love above all.

  
A rush of sympathy surged through her as she thought of the people who used to walk among these walls, whose tragedy burned so horridly it left bitter ashes behind, a sorrowful energy lingering on every corner. Perhaps it was due to her own ghosts that cast clutching shadows on her life; the unrelenting emptiness emanating from each phantom heart reaching for hers in recognition.

  
_I'll come back for you, sweetheart. I promise._

  
It had always been a lie, fabricated by her own childlike loneliness. Her supposed enemy's harsh words did nothing to soothe the ache of admitting a hard and brutal truth. 

  
Letting go of the past wasn't completely liberating to her, as much as her lips appeared to be frozen on open smiles, they merely concealed the truth underneath. She still felt alone. Unwanted. Even if a previously unnoticed weight on her chest loosened with the release of the painful words, for she'd spent countless days hiding them deep within herself, nothing could ever change or restore her lost youth. She was left to starve as a child, sold like she was worth less than her scavenged scraps of metal. Unwanted, _abandoned_.

  
Her parents never truly loved her. They were never coming back. She had always been alone.

  
And the same hollowness creeping into her soul seemed to seep through the gaps from every doorway standing before her.

  
Her curiosity got the better of her and she risked a closer look at the darker corners of her surroundings hiding beneath faint shadows. Austerity aside, the arched ceiling above her head was adorned with diamond-shaped ornamentation carved from shimmering white stone. She would be openly gawking at its beauty if it was presented to her in any other context — now she merely shuddered, a current of trepidation overwhelming her thoughts.

   
Before she could stop and wonder why she had been brought to this ominous place, voices reverberated through the walls in long echoes, squeezing the air out of her lungs with smothering darkness.

  
It almost sounded like the cries of an endless crowd; however, they all seemed to come from one person's throat. They seized all heartfelt memories the place held and crushed them between invisible cold fingers. The voices were shouting, hissing, crooning, in threatning and soothing tons all at the same time. Words uttered in such a devious urgency that they melded together in an indecipherable tangle of noises.

  
She couldn't hear anything else. The sounds made her blood run cold and the sick feeling of dread filled her stomach, a tight knot forming inside her throat.

  
Rey mustered up the courage to stay in place while the baleful presence staining the air creeped closer and closer. A part of her wondered if this was a vision conjured by the Force, perhaps a piece of a much larger puzzle not yet deciphered. Either way, standing meekly and adrift was not one of her fortes and the enigmatic energies around her demanded more than a silent observer, their ancient residues compelling enough to raise gooseflesh across her skin.

  
As though attempting to answer her unspoken questions, a blue door to her left creaked open. A scarlet streak of light shined through the gap and crossed the floor, illuminating the gloomy walls.

   
The overpowering darkness, spreading through her surroundings like a blinding fog, suddenly cowered like a cornered animal and retreated, at least somewhat, back into the shadows while reducing its horde to whispers.

  
Rey swallowed her uncertainty and advanced carefully towards the light. When she approached the door, it became wider and brighter, guiding her way to the menacing room where the vile voices seemed to come from.

  
A cold sweat formed on her furrowed brow and her vision was faltering around the edges, the floor wavering beneath her feet while she moved further into the corridor. Notwithstanding that something in that room desperately called to her, a vaguely familiar presence deep within her brainstem summoning her and imploring her to come closer, it appeared to not want her there all the same and dissuade her from witnessing a dangerous eventuality.

  
Despite every warning, Rey moved closer and reached a hand to touch the doorknob.

  
When she was close enough to actually sense the creature so full of dark energy and discern its twisted shape, a burst of brutal power rippled through the air and the blue door that once stood ajar banged against the inside wall, sending objects flying around the room with such violence that it reminded her of Jakku's unforgiving desert storms. There were frightened whimpers coming from the benign presence instantly after the impact, pleading silently for help.

  
A roar of cruel laughter filled her ears, cutting through the defiant act with sharp teeth and destroying all signs of braveness of its seeming prey with ease.

  
Silence fell and stretched for an unclear amount of time. It might have been only seconds or a thousand days passing by in the blink of an eye. Rey's dreamlike haze confirmed what she already knew: whatever this was, it wasn't real. Her heart refused to stop hammering in her chest regardless of her awareness.

  
With a shuddering breath, she took a few mindful steps forward and finally entered the room, treading carefully—

  
Then the voices came back all at once in a defeaning howl.

   
She could understand bits and pieces of what they were saying now, yet only one sentence stood out against the erratic horde, speaking clearer and louder, as if it were the only thing that should reach her ears. 

  
"They hate you," a low, growly voice whispered. "They fear you. They _should_."

  
Rey recognized that voice. And she also recognized the dark-haired boy sitting on the bed inside a nearly destroyed bedroom. He was younger and leaner, his dark locks of hair trimmed and short from which the tips of prominent ears were peeking through, every sharp edge and striking feature not yet matured to adulthood. All in all, his angular and long face looked the same, apart from the scar now crossing his cheek. The scar that she carved onto his skin with his grandfather's blue blade.

  
She was inside a nightmare, or maybe a distant memory, that did not belong to her. It was _his_ nightmare.

  
"They will never love you, boy… You are nothing but a monster to them. They consider you a liability. They do not trust you. Can you not see that?" Snoke's voice trembled with false emotion, masking his impatience with concern and affection. The true meaning behind those words was evident to her. _Can you not see that you are all alone? That I am the only one you can trust?_

  
It was all lies, but Rey could sense his damaging words rang true inside the boy's mind.

  
Ben had his head bent low and his knees were tucked against his chest, both arms wrapped tightly around his legs. He was visibly shaking and wincing, curling into himself, eyes closed as if that would make Snoke's glooming presence go away. It did not work. It never worked.

  
All of a sudden, the dream switched and the images around her melted away. They were hastily replaced by an enormous throne room, a place both she and Ben were acquainted with. The walls were terribly red, covering the vastness of space encompassing their beings like blood-soaked sheets, just as she remembered. Yet those same walls seemed to be shrinking, slowly closing in on them until the air became thin and cold.

  
There were no guards dressed in red armor, there was nothing but Snoke's disfigured face and empty blue eyes, a blinding white light coming out of his dark claws.

  
And then she saw him. She _felt_ him. Ben screamed in utter shock and pain when a bolt of lightning struck him and sent his body crumbling to the ground.

  
Rey clutched her own stomach, every torturing sensation arising out of his body and flowing into her own, bringing her to her knees.

  
His deep and low voice was almost unrecognizable, hoarsely cracking with the force of his endless screaming. His arms and legs were jerking and thrashing under the pain.

  
She wanted to scream with him. She wanted to cry and tell him that this wasn't real. Snoke was dead. He'd ended his life himself. He was free. But there seemed to be invisible hands holding her legs in place and all Rey could do was watch the man whom she had let see inside her soul gradually succumb to the agony.

  
The air around them changed and Ben reached out for her in his dream, begging for her help. She could hear his incoherent mumbling inside her head, his quavering voice calling for her — coming from across the throne room and within her at the same time.

  
" _Rey_ …"

  
She closed her eyes, breathing deeply to channel the raw energy beneath her skin and put an end to his pain, but their bond was unresponsive and her desperate attempts failed while the Force slipped away from her like grains of sand through her fingers.

  
And then, in a split second, there was a sickening crunching sound and his screams ceased. His eyes fluttered shut as he slid into dark nothingness, leaving behind only his lifeless body twisted unnaturally on shattered bones. She didn't know what was worse; being a witness to his torture or fanciful but disturbing demise at the hands of his former master.

  
Rey gasped in horror. Every one of her limbs felt heavy and she still couldn't move no matter how hard she tried. The walls were bursting into flames, revealing infinite starry skies that smelled of burnt flesh and death.

  
Shadows began to advance towards them, a buddle of swirling tethers threatening to cage them in and swallow them. Ben remained pale and motionless on the floor, like a statue carved from marble. His dark hair was clinging to his face and his black tunic was torn in a few places, exposing small pieces of his skin.

  
Rey closed her eyes once more and freed herself from the imaginary chains, her heart beating faster and lighter in relief as her feet moved forward of their own accord.

  
In that moment, she was not the girl who'd fled from a pair of entreating brown eyes to the expecting arms of a friend, the promise of a sheltering home and a necessary fight. She was not the girl who'd spent months ignoring distant pleads from a despairing nemesis, shutting him out whenever she possibly could. She was not the last beacon of hope for the Resistance or the Force-user who was secretly feared by some of her comrades and altogether misunderstood.

  
She was the girl who dreamed of light touches from calloused fingers, her own work-hardened hands reaching for silky, midnight curls and plump lips saying her name in a million reverent whispers.

  
She was the scavenger who salvaged broken things, stubborn and resolute, never surrendering her strength to arduous bearings that could easily overcome her. She would bend scorching metal to her will if she deemed it necessary, survival her utmost priority and undying patience a resource as precious as water.

  
Just for once, Rey allowed herself to bring upon to the surface every simmering, anguished feeling that lied beneath her forced grins and remained sealed in the depths of her heart. Secrets she couldn't confide in anyone neither admit in the daylight, no matter how indisputable they were—clearer than the rippling grey waters of Ahch-To's ocean— when she laid her head down during a planet's night cycle or the blue blur of stars from the Falcon's hyperdrive, her brain unable to convey any other image besides Ben Solo's attentive gaze burning into her skin, his voice resonating and echoing in her head in a velvet, deep baritone.

  
This was all merely a dream, after all. A treacherous fantasy overflowing from his thundering brain to hers, engulfing her senses with everything that was undoubtedly him until Rey could no longer differ where she ended and he began. Therefore, engaging with him couldn't possibly cause any real damage. At least that was what she so desperately wanted to believe.

  
For the first time since Crait, they could be just Rey and Ben.

  
Stars knew how much she selfishly wished that to be true when no one was watching.

  
_Please, let it be true_ , Rey pleaded to the Maker. _Let it be simple, if only for a little while_.

  
And so, with her mind set and thoroughly intertwined to his, she ran to him.

 

***

 

In the midst of gloaming night terrors where his lungs ceased to function and a bitter taste of copper lingered on his tongue, he saw her face. Her golden skin, her hopeful yet determined hazel eyes. She was so close to him that he could count her freckles, his skin demanding to brush against hers and trace the constellations there with his fingers, the same way it had when he crossed the whole galaxy to feel her.

  
She was all he could see. He knew it was only a nightmare— he still felt the agonizing fright and pain deep within his bones—but suddenly it looked like a dizzying daydream. 

  
It was not uncommon for Kylo to dream of her. He lost count of how many nights, when he could actually get proper sleep, she'd visit him in his subconscious and his mind showed him every single thing they could've been. He'd wake up drenched in sweat and cursing himself, the Resistance, the Jedi, Snoke, sometimes even the First Order, for everything they could not be. A different kind of torture.

  
This time, though still illusory, the dream felt different. She wasn't standing over a sea of white-armored soldiers while clad in black attire, her gaze sharp as burnished steel whose frostiness melted only for him, an avenging goddess on his arm. Her eyes were almost pleading and roaming over his body, wide with fear and something else. Concern?

  
"Ben," her voice called softly. "Wake up."

  
His brows furrowed in confusion. Was she _here_? No, that wasn't possible. Rey had closed off their bond ever since the last time he saw her on the salt planet of Crait, his footsteps leaving red prints on the white soil like bleeding gashes were sliced on its surface. And when she was too worn out or absorbed in a task to concentrate, she would appear in his chambers, the bridge or the grey corridors inside the Finalizer, then cast him a fleeting glance and avoid him until the Force took pity on them, ending the uncomfortable silence. He didn't know what to say to her. Where once she felt rage, now he could only sense disappointment. And that was a feeling he knew all too well. Every person in his life had considered him a disappointment in some way and he couldn't bear it any longer. Especially coming from her.

  
Yet she still remained right in front of him, her face twisting in annoyance. 

  
_Oh. She's definitely real._  

  
Despite trying with all her might to not appear through their perseverant link, Rey's mental walls were unprotected in her sleep.

  
"Wake up. NOW!" she yelled and shook his arm, her warmth reaching his skin through the foggy haze of his dormant state.

  
He was jolted awake and instinctively called his lightsaber hilt to him. The unstable crystal blade came to life and suffused the dark room with crimson light.

   
Desperately attempting to control his ragged breathing and searching for a possible intruder, Kylo half expected to see a green light hovering over him in a silent, treacheary threat. But that happened a long time ago, in another lifetime. And Skywalker was dead.

  
Deep down, he knew it would be next to impossible for anyone to breach his chambers. He was the only person who had access to them and no one would dare to make an attempt on the Supreme Leader's life in his sleep, since the chances of success were too slim, his subordinates too fearful of him to misinterpret his unconsciousness as vulnerability and use it as an advantage. Even General Hux. The man wanted him gone, that was a given. Though his apprehension towards his powers had kept him in place so far, Kylo would be more than pleased to prove to the ginger irritant that overthrowing him would be his ultimate downfall, lest the General forget how easily it was for him to break someone's neck.

  
When it hit him that Skywalker hadn't returned as a Force ghost to finish what he started six years ago and no one else had come to strike him down, he inhaled sharply and turned on his side to find her lying on her back beside him. _Rey_.

  
She was looking away and avoiding his eyes, frowning. Her chestnut hair was loose, cascating down her shoulders, and her garments consisted of only a breast band and light sleep trousers.

  
His heart was hammering against his ribs at the sight. He'd never seen her wearing so little. He could almost pretend that she was actually lying on his bed, but it was as foolish to fantasize as the thought was thrilling — she wasn't even in the same system as him. She was lightyears away and she'd _betrayed_ him, just like everyone else in his life. Kylo wished he could hate her for it.

  
He didn't.

  
"You wouldn't let me sleep," she hurriedly said, seemingly trying to justify her erratic behavior as well as her presence.

  
"I'll try to have nicer dreams next time," he murmured while leaning his back against the headboard, trying his best to sound sardonic but his voice decided to betray him as well.

  
Rey snorted and crossed her arms against her chest, either in annoyance or embarrassment by her state of undress. Probably both.

  
A strained silence fell between them and he sighed wearily. Talking to her was exhausting (but still infuriatingly electrifying) nowadays. That is, when she'd actually give him the chance to hold a civilized conversation. It had been months since the battle on Crait, since he killed his master to save her and free himself. Months of trying to convince her that he couldn't be who she wanted him to be, that there was another way, a better way. But now Kylo knew she'd never give in. She'd decided to aid her friends and chose the Resistance over him, running away and leaving him unconscious on the floor. That had stung more than the lightsaber wound she inflicted on him all those months ago, and it would take a lot longer to heal.

  
After a few uncomfortable minutes, her voice reverberated through the mass of energy wrapped around them when she surprisingly tried to break the heavy silence. "Do you… do you usually have nightmares like that?"

  
She glanced at him hesitantly and the countless silver stars shining through his viewport cast her skin in a pale glow.

  
"Yes," he sighed before continuing. "But I barely get enough sleep to be bothered by them."

  
"Oh," she faintly whispered. A traitorous voice in his head reminded him that Rey was only acknowledging their connection out of pure weariness, that her words held no meaning, since she no longer felt compassion for him. He decided to ignore it for the time being. "I could never sleep well on Jakku. My fellow scavengers weren't exactly trustworthy. But I'm afraid becoming a beacon of hope now doesn't help me either."

  
He still remembered that day when he probed her mind in his interrogation chambers, beholding her strenuous life on the wretched desert planet. He felt her bone-deep ache everywhere inside of him; waiting for comforting and tender embraces, vivid daydreams of storm-ridden oceans whose turbulent waves shattered against the shore, the inevitable dusk replacing them with dreadful nightmares of golden landscapes that stretched as far as the eye could see, a desperate longing for affection and refuge crushing her heart during frigid nights. It was intriguing to say the least, if not completely strange, that he'd felt so drawn to her almost instantly. But Kylo soon realized the reason behind it wasn't exactly a grand mistery. He recognized himself in those feelings, for loneliness wasn't foreign to him in any way. He'd known it all his life.

  
_Don't be afraid, I feel it too._

  
He held back from making any snarky remarks about the Resistance. She was here and he would do his best to not scare her away. "I imagine being the last Jedi must place a lot of weight on your shoulders," he said, pushing himself up to sit with his legs crossed. "Are they coming to you for spiritual guidance?" there was a small smirk that he couldn't contain on his lips. He could never imagine Rey as a peaceful and centered Jedi. There was a clamorous fire in her veins that no one could put out.

  
"I don't think they realized I haven't had any proper training, but they're not _that_ oblivious," she scoffed indignantly and turned her head to look at his face in an abrupt movement, wide-eyed in surprise. "Wait. Are you mocking me?" 

  
He bit back a chuckle as he answered. "I'd never presume to do such a thing."

  
"Huh," her eyes darted briefly on his bare shoulders before lowering in an almost bashful manner. "The Supreme Leader has a sense of humor." There was no laughter in her voice, but no reprimand either. Only a tinge of sorrow.

  
He let out a quiet hum in response, slightly puzzled by her change of behavior. Could she have finally understood her real purpose? _Could she have understood that her rightful place was by his side?_

  
Kylo glanced at her profile, studying it. Her small upturned nose marked by freckles, her pink lips. He couldn't make out all of her features in his dimly lighted chambers, but he remembered every one of them. He remembered the strong line of her jaw and how there were bits of green in her hazel eyes. The outline of her face was delicate but remarkable all the same, unique in its gracefulness. Before long, he found himself staring at her lithe and toned form, entranced by the sight of exposed sun-kissed skin and picturing how it'd look draped in jet-black silk gowns.

  
His chest contricted with his wandering, senseless thoughts. Stubborn as she was, the girl would rather ignore him for the rest of their lives than accept the undeniable truth the Force had bestowed upon them. 

  
_Stubborn scavenger girl._  


  
_Stubborn, however beautiful._

  
Rey looked up slowly to meet his gaze. She shifted awkwardly and broke away to glance at her own hands again, fiery feelings surging through their bond and setting all his nerves ablaze.

  
He averted his eyes to the glowing stars in front of them as quickly as he could. He felt blood rush to his face and his heart began throbbing in his ears.

  
Kylo used to think he'd eventually manage to center himself around her and control his tumultuous emotions. He was tremendously mistaken.

  
"I…" his voice came out strained and he cleared his throat. Only then he realized he had no idea where his sentence was going. He just wanted to keep her talking. "Why did you leave my lightsaber with me?" he blurted out, but then hastily added. "On the Supremacy. You clipped it back to my belt. Why?"

  
That question had fazed him for months but he never had the chance to properly ask her. He knew that Rey could've easily taken the weapon with her or killed him with it. She had tried to fight him, after all. Yet she simply left him armed and misguidedly hopeful that somehow she wasn't able to kill him, just as he was never able to kill her.

  
The darkest parts of his heart told him the only plausible reason why she hadn't bothered to take his life was rather simple: her naivety, ridden by an arduous striving to meet the hypocritical Jedi's standards stopped her from killing an enemy who'd already been subdued.

  
But a secret part of him, a most concealed fragment of his core that grew bigger and brighter as time went by, spreading through his cells like an incurable disease, wished for a completely different answer.

  
Kylo had no idea which answer would shake him the most.

  
Perhaps his life would be easier if she just slashed and crushed the last remains of the overtrusting boy he'd once been. She could tear them out of his soul with anger and hostility as he'd tried to do himself but never completely succeeded. Not even after murdering his own… not even after murdering Han Solo.

  
It would be less strainful if he just stopped earning for her presence. _Hoping_. But Kylo knew better than to expect an ending to his ever-growing longing. There was a huge possibility that Rey's hatred for him burned within her, filling every fiber of her being with revulsion, and he hoped nonetheless.

  
Foolish, overtrusting, _weak_ boy.

  
_You are no Vader… you are just a child in a mask._

  
Rey turned her body to face him and stared into his eyes before answering. "I never meant to kill you. I didn't want to. Did you — did you really assume I would?"

  
"You did reach for Anakin's lightsaber and left me unconscious. What was I supposed to assume?"

  
They were sitting across from each other on his bed, knees nearly brushing, the air growing thicker with buzzing tension.

  
"You were supposed to assume that I wouldn't leave my friends to die," she hissed, curling her small hands into tight fists.

  
"You didn't answer my question." He said, not unkindly.

  
She huffed before relenting slightly, a slight frown forming between her hazel eyes. "I couldn't leave you unprotected… unarmed. Not after what we did," she sighed deeply and her eyes softened. "Besides, your life wasn't mine to take. I wouldn't do it even if I wanted to, and I didn't." She pronounced the last words slowly, as though compelling him to grasp some hidden meaning behind them.

  
Very carefully, Kylo leaned closer to her and looked into her face. Her eyes roamed through his bare torso before quickly snapping back to his own. He could've smirked but found himself trapped by her gaze, its intensity burning through his pale skin to reach his very soul, squeezing the air from his lungs and making him breathless. Her closeness was a sweet torment he had no idea how to endure.

  
"Why?" he asked in a breathy whisper. She parted her lips and he pressed. "Say it."

  
He could feel heat radiating from her skin. Her left arm was pressed against his headboard, his sheets stirring with every movement of her limbs. He wondered if they would smell like her afterwards, the fresh scent of grass and flower blossoms in her hair imprinted on his bed until the satin fabric transfigured into a green meadow inside his drowsy mind— taking him closer to her in a deep slumber not unlike their cryptic link. The thought made his mouth dry.

  
She was _here_ and she was nowhere near him. Their bond seemed to grow stronger by the day even if Rey could control her side of it. Snoke had lied when he took full credit of their connection. This was something else. Something meaningful, pure. And his tarnishing hands would never be able to create anything even remotely resembling purity. Snoke was dead; their connection, on the other hand, lived and thrived.

  
"Tell me. _Please_ ," he pleaded. Once again, he begged her. It was already a recurrence between them, but he no longer minded. He needed to know.

  
She looked away and her bottom lip was trembling. "I care for you. I do, Ben. I can't really help it, not when I feel like I know you. Not when I know of your past and your loneliness," her voice started breaking. He swallowed loudly. "I was so angry at you for what you did, I still am. I felt foolish for trusting you, for wishing that I could trust you. And… for wishing that everything was different, despite the impossibility of it. But we made our choices and I stand by mine." She straightened with resolve, yet her hazel eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

  
_She cares for me. Rey cares for me. She's hurting, too._ The words rang inside his mind again and again, sounding astonishily foreign to his ears. But Kylo perceived a genuine sincerity in her comely face, feeling her distressing anguish like it was his own. How could he ever find the right words to say now? How could he explain that he most likely cared deeply for her since their very first encounter on Takodana, even when he didn't understand why then? He couldn't fathom his churning feelings towards her, with all their undisclosed names and unmapped ways bleeding new gashes in his soul amidst inner wounds and battle scars alike. They were overwhelming, _earnest_ emotions that swirled within his veins and shook him to the very marrow of his bones, settling in the back of his mind while crushing through his most guarded defenses— they were every bit as ensnaring as the fires he'd attempted to extinguish from his heart with tidal waves of darkness and rage, only to find himself drawn to their scorching radiance like a powerless moth to a beacon of light.

  
Instinctively he reached out for her, raising a trembling arm. She breathed quickly through her mouth and froze. Her hands were clasped in front of her on the bed, and he slowly brushed her fingers with his own pale hand.

  
The bond pulsed and hummed like a static charge, so strong it nearly became palpable, a thrumming energy surrounding them with warmth and intertwining their emotions. The magnetic pull drawing them together flared with renewed purpose, beaming with such a blinding exuberance that it slided through their bloodstream and burned away all doubt, threatening to combine two separate beings and turn them into _one_.

  
One beating heart. One mind. One glowing signature.

  
_Balance._

  
*** 

 

For several overpowering seconds, Rey seemed to drown in the bottomless pit of wistful yearning inside his brown eyes. They were as molten as they were dark while boring into her soul, uncovering her secrets and peeling away all of her layers one by one. She could've stopped him; an insistent voice coming from the reasonable side of her brain demanded that she _should_ stop him at once, slap his hand away like it burned her, refuse his gentleness for they were nothing but enemies. But that voice grew weaker and weaker, withering away and vanishing into oblivion like it was frightened of their persistent and powerful connection.

  
"Was the idea of staying by my side really so repellent to you?" Ben's deep voice faltered, murmuring the words so quietly she barely heard him.

  
Rey had spent countless night cycles lying awake on her narrow cot, staring at the durasteel walls inside the Falcon, wondering what could have happened if she'd just taken his gloved hand. If she'd accepted his offer to join him in exchange for sparing the Resistance's fleet, would he have complied? He could've ceased the attacks with a single effortless command. Luke would still be alive then, leaving Ahch-To to aid his sister by way of apology. Their allies, previously scattered throughout the systems, would hear their pleas and come in tow, thus rebuilding their forces and sending a message of hope to whoever needed to hear :  the end of tyranny was near and peace would eventually prosper. In return, she might have helped to fulfill his aspiration in bringing a new order to the galaxy while taming his bloodthirst towards the rebels, even if she never desired to be a ruler.

  
However, what haunted her nowadays was not envisioning possible outcomes and wrestling with the reality of her actual decision, it was realizing that, for a moment there, amidst slain corpses and fiery sparks and perishing ships, she _wanted_ to stay. She wanted to take his hand in hers and forget every barrier that stood between them. But deep down, Rey was painfully aware of the fact that she wouldn't be taking Ben Solo's offered hand, for he had hidden himself away again behind a rising tide of darkness, a ragged shield to be used whenever his fright became too intense to bear.

  
And she would never stay for Kylo Ren.

  
The feeling of his warm hands moving beneath hers brought Rey out of her reverie. He gingerly traced circles on her left wrist with his thumb, his dark eyes gazing at her in silent expectation.

  
She blinked stupidly and focused on his long face before answering, scolding herself inwardly for eyeing his muscled chest and the alabaster of his scarred skin. Did he not own any items of nightwear or anything else besides his tunic? A kriffing _shirt_ , for instance? "Staying with you wasn't the problem, Ben."

  
"What was it then? My refusal to save your worthless friends?" his eyes darkened, his full lips twisting into a grimace.

  
Rey flinched and removed her hands from his grasp, reminding herself of who he was and feeling an overwhelming need to punch the arrogant sneer off his assymetrical face.

  
Huffing out a frustrated breath, she rose to her feet and took several steps away from the bed, putting as much distance between them as she could in her small room.

  
"You turned down my offer to rule an entire galaxy and expected me to join a band of rebels. Was that what you wanted from me? To make me into an _asset_?" his voice rose with bitterness as he stood to follow her. 

  
"I never wanted the damn galaxy," she hissed through gritted teeth, her rage flowing through their bond. _Good_ , she thought. _Rage is a language he speaks so well, maybe he'll finally understand_. "And if you think so little of me for choosing a _worthless_ band of rebels, then why do you still bother talking to me at all? You certaintly must be a busy man, _Supreme Leader_." She mimicked his bitter tone with ease and turned around to meet his piercing eyes, not once cowering before his towering height.

  
Ben winced, his narrow features crumbling. "You were the one who left me for dead after promising that I wasn't alone, that you'd help me. I offered you _everything_ I had." He snapped harshly, but she found nothing but sorrowful heartache flickering in his vivid and roaring energy.

  
His words resonated deep inside Rey's chest, squeezing her heart tight with invisible fingers. His honey brown eyes betrayed him, uttering a deep misery that lingered in the heavy air around them, across a star-dotted galaxy that divided them.

  
"No," she shook her head with certainty. "You have much more to offer."

  
As soon as his lips parted and his gaze softened, the tension ever present in their cosmic thread started to recede, a white-hot pulse of energy fluttering wildly like a wounded bird flapping its wings in a hasty attempt to remain aloft, only to find itself helplessly wavering down the sky.

  
Before he could fade from view, she pondered on how severely the Force had bound their beings, wondering if at some point it would weld their minds together and place her thoughts at his disposal during their mystic encounters, the idea both hazardly curious and frightening.

  
_I never wanted the galaxy_ , Rey confessed to herself in an unvoiced, doleful whisper. _I wanted you to come home_.

  
_Come home to me._

  
And then, before she could be swept away by the incoming storm of conflicted thoughts that came whenever she was haunted by his materialized presence, the Force mercifully took him back to his flagship and he was gone.

  
Rey stretched her tense limbs and sighed in relief, frowning at the empty space Ben Solo left in her bed. What was she thinking, letting him _touch_ her, letting a single nightmare destroy the wall she'd fought so hard to build between them? She could not jeopardize the Resistance's safety or allow any danger to fall upon her friends due to her own misgivings. He never pried for information on the rebels' whereabouts during the rare occasions she gave him the benefit of the doubt, but her long lost gullibility had dissipated beneath Jakku's scalthing sun and mistrust was honed in its place. She would not risk the lives of people she had come to respect and cherish for a man who didn't wish to be saved.

  
No, she wouldn't let herself yield. Not again. Not while he called himself Supreme Leader, choosing to stand for a regime whose purpose was to dominate the galaxy and destroy everything she held dear.

  
No matter how horrid his dreams were.

  
No matter how much her heart hurt for him.

  
No matter how lonely she still felt even when she was surrounded by people who cared for her.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic in almost a decade and english is my second language, so please be kind. <3


End file.
